Lessons We Learn from Things that Happen
by KayDrew
Summary: While in surgery, something happens to Hawkeye that will change his life forever. This is an A.U. fan fic and I know that the disease he gets is not found until the 1980's, so please no flam on that. There is mild language.
1. Hurt

Hawkeye Pierce was in his tent, asleep on his cot and wearing his red bathrobe. His side of the tent was a mess. It was if someone had ransacked the place. However, that was not the case. Hawkeye had been searching for his bathrobe late last night after a long day of surgery. When he had found it, he had been too tired to clean up after himself. He had not misplaced it, as it might seem, he had just been tired and had forgotten where he had hung it. When he had been looking for it, the time had been around midnight.

That day had been an extremely strenuous and hectic one, and all Hawkeye had wanted to do was put on his bathrobe and go to sleep. That had been exactly what he had done and was doing right this moment. He was actually doing more, he was dreaming of him and his pop, fishing and talking.

Hawkeye was back home, fishing with his dad and talking about when he had been a kid. Daniel and he had not caught any fish, but he did not care, he was home, with his dad, and having the time of his life. "Do you remember the time when we were at…" Hawkeye said, starting a story. However, he was interrupted by an alien voice. "Attention all personnel…" the voice said in his dream 

"_What was that?" he wondered as they drifted to a dock near a day camp. When they hit the shore, he discovered where the voice came from. It was from a loud speaker._

"_Attention all personnel…" the voice said again._

"_Go on son. We'll catch up later." His father said_

Slowly, Hawkeye woke from his sleep. He opened his eyes reluctantly. He rolled onto his back and stretched a little, trying to get his bearings. Hawkeye turned his head and looked outside. He then looked at his clock and groaned. Hawkeye had just had maybe a total of two hours sleep and was not happy. "No wonder people are executed at this hour – who wants to live?" he muttered

"Attention all personnel…incoming wounded. I repeat incoming wounded. Report to OR immediately." Kingers voice shouted over the intercom.

With those words, Hawkeye was wide-awake. He quickly jumped up, and throwing off his bathrobe, he raced out of his tent – Hawkeye had not taken off his day clothes when he had gotten in two hours earlier. He rushed into the Pre-OP and quickly got into his scrubs and washed his hands. The surgeon was not weary any longer; in fact, he was far from it. That was always how it was when there was a surgery about to happen. His adrenaline would start to pump through his veins. He felt things more, he saw things clearer, and Hawkeye could hear a mouse a mile away – it always seemed to Hawkeye that he could feel the lightest touch, see for miles, and hear the smallest of sounds. Tonight was just the same as always, but that would soon change and Hawkeye had no clue.

As soon as he was in his gear, Hawkeye barreled into the OR. There was all ready four people prepped and Charlies, BJ, and Cornel Potter were at three of the patients. Hawkeye went to the first table – his table it seemed, because he always seemed to operate on that table. He glanced out the Post-OP doors for just a brief moment and saw in the hallway that there were at least ten more patients to be operated on and there was more patients pouring in by the second. With a heavy sigh as gloves were put on him, he readied himself for the long hours ahead of him. Hawkeye looked down at the mangled kid that was lying there. He had a large piece of shrapnel stuck in his leg and a knife in his stomach. Hawkeye examined the wounds for a half of second and decided that the knife in the stomach was the direr of the two wounds. The surgeon cut the wounded kid open and inspected the damage that had been done to the inside. He let out a small sigh of relief when it was revealed to him that the wound inside was not extensive and was easily repairable.

"All right now this won't hurt a bit, until you wake up." Hawkeye muttered, grabbing hold of the handle of the knife. With a swift and smooth tug, it came out. Hawkeye placed the knife on the table. "Suture." He muttered and the nurse handed him the needle and thread. With a skilled hand, he stitched up the stomach wound. Hawkeye moved down so he was at the other wound. He carefully pulled the metal out and placed it next to the knife.

What happened next, changed his life forever. Everything happened very fast and very quickly. The wounded solider woke sudden and grabbed at Hawkeye. Hawkeye backwards and into the little cart that held the knife and shrapnel he had just removed. The cart fell to the floor, as did the knife and metal. At that point, Hawkeye lost his balance, and fell to the ground. As he tried to catch himself, his hand landed on the bloody knife, and he heard Margaret scram.

He looked at his hand and saw that he had gotten a large gash from the knife and his hand was dripping blood. He looked up at Margaret, who was holding a container of blood and a sheet of paper. She looked horrified.

"What?" he asked as he slowly go up. Hawkeye had no clue what had just happened, but he thought it might have been bad by the look on Margaret's face. He licked his lips nervously as waited for an answer, but he feared what the answer might be.


	2. Fear

Hawkeye looked at Margaret as she stared at him with horror in her blue eyes. He looked around and saw BJ, Potter, Charlies, and half the OR troop staring down at him. He slowly got up, wincing a little as he put a small amount of pressure on his hand. Hawkeye stood there, next to the solider, his arms hung to his side and his hand was dripping blood, but he did not care. "Major Houlihan, what is the matter?" Hawkeye said, gulping. He feared the answer and it must have shown because he felt Father Mulcahy's hand on his shoulder.

Hawkeye gulped again and his brow furrowed. Why would Margaret not answer him? He could handle it. He was a big boy. "Margaret, tell me, please. What is the matter?" Hawkeye demanded

"Hawkeye," she whispered, "He, Private Michaels, has AIDs."

He felt his stomach drop. He had heard of it and knew that there was no cure for it. "Why does that concern me?" he asked, "It's not like we had sex."

Hawkeye laughed nervously – he had been trying to tell a joke, but for the first time, it failed. However, that was because what he said was true – he had not had sex with the man and intercourse was the only way Hawkeye knew that AIDs was transmitted. He had never met anyone with the illness nor did he know much about it – most people did not, it was a new disease.

"Hawkeye, there is new findings out that it is – it is spread by not only intercourse but through the blood." Margaret stammered

Hawkeye knew she was going to say that – he had read the same paper. He closed his eyes and exhaled. Hawkeye was terrified, because he did not know what lay ahead for him – Hawkeye did know that if he had the illness he would have to quit being a surgeon and be an examining doctor, if anyone would hire him.

"Do you want to test my blood?" he asked her after a few minutes of long silence.

Margaret nodded slowly and turned. Hawkeye followed her into Post-OP and he took off his gloves – they were ruined anyway and he'd need to change them. He sat down and with shaking hands, rolled up his sleeve. Margaret brought over an alcohol swab, syringe, thread, and need. She then drew a vial blood. She put a small bandage on where she had drawn blood and then she sewed up his hand without saying anything.

She got up and took the vial to where she did the testing. Hawkeye just sat there wandering what the outcome would be. After a few minute, he went back to the Pre-OP, scrubbed up, and put on new gloves. He went back into OR and started on a second patient – his patient, Private Michaels, had been finished up – as if nothing had happened. Corporal Muldoon had gotten his leg blown up – it was not a serious injury.

The man that lay in front of him was not sedated and he looked at Hawkeye with fear. "It'll be OK, kid," Hawkeye promised.

The young man, Corporal Muldoon, smiled at him. "Think I can do the samba with my wife when I get home?" he asked with hope

"I'm sure of it." Hawkeye replied with a smile

"Why weren't you out on the battlefield? You seem confidant…You'd be a good solider."

"When I got into this war I had a very clear understanding with the Pentagon – a deal you could say. I will not carry a gun. I'll carry a book, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry, carry me back to old Virginie, I'll even hari-kari if you show me how, but I will not carry a gun!"

The man laughed. "You are funny." He whispered as Klinger brought Hawkeye the x-ray.

"Shit." Hawkeye whispered as he looked at the x-ray

"What?" Corporal Muldoon asked furrowing his brow.

"Your leg…there is no way to set it. It needs amputated." He whispered

Corporal Muldoon bit his lip and nodded. He wouldn't be able to dance.

"Put him under." He told Margaret who had shown up without him even noticing.

"Yes doctor." She said

"You sure you want to do this son?" Potter asker him

"Yes, dad, I am." Hawkeye said sarcastically.

When Corporal Muldoon was put under, Hawkeye took up the saw. He began to saw the leg off at right above the knee. The surgeon was sweating and he was nervous, even shaking a little.

"Son, I'll finish. You go take a rest." Potter said gently

Hawkeye licked his lips and nodded. Hawkeye left and tore off his scrubs. He went to The Swamp and to the tent he, BJ, and Charles shared. He sat down on his cot and then stood up. Hawkeye paced for a while and then set down at his desk and pulled out his pen and paper. _Dad_, he scrawled, _You know how I say Korea's pretty much the same story: the fighting goes on, the hatred, the violence, the senseless brutality, men behaving like animals - and then there's the war? Well, it is the same, the fights are still going on, there is still hatred, violence, and senseless brutality, but_

Hawkeye paused and stared at the paper. How could he write this to his father, but he had to; he told his father everything, the good, the bad, and the ugly. With a heavy sigh, he continued to write his letter, _in a blink of an eye, things changed. Enemies joined hands and became allies, the fighting stopped, and the men showed humanity. It was because of one accident. One that has changes the history of this camp forever. _

_I do not know how to break this to you dad, so I will not. The tests have not come back yet. I will let you know what the results are. _

_I love you._

_Hawkeye _

Hawkeye read through the letter two times and then folding it and putting it in a pre-addressed envelope, he went to Klingers' office and put it in the Outbox. Hawkeye glanced into the OR and felt a pang of guilt and sadness fall over him. He licked his lips, left the office, and started wander around the camp, wondering what would happen next.


	3. Knowledge

Waiting. Hawkeye was horrible at it. He hated to wait. This time though, it was the hardest wait he had ever had. It took three days to culture the blood and get the results back from his test. Things went on with wounded coming in each day. Hawkeye, out of unsaid or blatantly shown sympathy was given the easiest cases – the ones where he got out first and were never serious. He felt like he was in his first year of residency. The surgeon was glad to have these surgeries though. At least with these he was less likely to screw something up because of his shaking hands or even infect his patients with the strange disease. To protect himself, Hawkeye put on three pairs of gloves. It was awkward, but he was damned if he would accidentally infect someone.

For three days, this was what happened. He would get up after two hours of sleep – Hawkeye could not sleep. His dreams were dark and his mind was always churning. Then, he'd get a cup of coffee and cardboard-like toast and go into surgery, never stopping until well past midnight. The casualties were even higher than usual. He took this as a sign the war was over and in fact it was. Both sides had to stop fighting in one week. Hawkeye would be going home. He was ecstatic, but his happiness was dampened with what lay ahead.

_Waiting. I am still waiting. I hate it. This is tearing me apart. I wish,_ Hawkeye was thinking when a voice on the loud speakers said, "Hawkeye Pierce report to Corneal Potter's office ASAP."

He shoved himself out of the seat he was in and strode slowly towards Potter's headquarters. All eyes it seemed were on him. Everyone from camp had crowded into Klinger's office – Hotlips, Charles, Klinger, Mulcahy, and BJ.

"It'll be all right, my son," Father Mulcahy, "However it turns out. God has a purpose."

"I sure hope so, Padre," Hawkeye said grimly as the surgeon entered the office.

"Sit down Pierce," Col. Potter said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Pierce sat down in the chair and pressed his hands on the armrests. "What are the results," he asked softly and in a tired voice.

"I'm sorry, son…" the Corneal began. However before he could finish the results, Hawkeye cut him off.

"I have AIDS," the doctor whispered, "Damnit!" Roughly, the man pushed himself out of the chair and paced.

"I'm sorry," Potter whispered as he watched Pierce pace, "I'm going to also have to forbid you from performing any more surgeries. We don't know how catchy this is."

Pierce was not listening. He stormed out of the room. The crowd parted. Everyone watched the man walk roughly through the office and into Post-OP. Hawkeye went over to Private Michaels bed. The blond haired young man looked up at the raving doctor. "You son of a…" Hawkeye began as he planted his hands firmly on the foot of the bed, "You inconsiderate…how could you fight with AIDS? You signed out death certificates!"

"Doctor, what are you talking about? AIDS – what is that," the poor wounded young man asked. His big blue eyes stared up and into Hawkeye's gray ones. He breathed shallowly and in fear. "I-I'm sick? H-how…." Private Michaels asked.

Hawkeye looked at the twenty year old and backed up slowly. His shoulders slouched and the doctor looked depleted. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. AIDS is a disease that makes you susceptible to most diseases, sort of like cancer. Unlike cancer, right now there is no cure and nothing to help. Not much is known about it."

Slowly Hawkeye turned and left. Everyone had been watching and then had started to follow Hawkeye Pierce, but BJ stopped them. "Stay," he said, "Leave him alone. He needs his space. He needs his best friend." The tall, mustached man followed Hawkeye into The Swamp. Pierce was pacing. He looked like a caged wild animal. His eyes blazed, but not with anger. It was fear that welled in his eyes.

Suddenly, the doctor stopped pacing. He went to his bed. Hawkeye roared and upturned the bed and then he went to his open trunk and threw everything out and around. Finally, he stopped at the brewery, but did not tear it up as he had done the rest of BJ and his side of The Swamp. Instead, he sank to the floor and sobbed. "Oh, God, why," Hawkeye prayed, closing his eyes as tears well up into them.

BJ, who had not moved, finally left his spot in the door. The fellow surgeon placed an arm around Hawkeye and drew him close. "Let it out," BJ whispered with worry in his voice. This was the worst news Hawkeye or BJ had ever gotten and he did not want to hide his worry. His best friend was dying a slow and painful death.


	4. Hope

The nights and days passed by in a foggy haze as Hawkeye waited to go back home. He wasn't aloud to do surgery, so after he did his rounds three times a day, Hawkeye had nothing else to do. So he would just trod through MASH 4077, never talking to anyone and no one talking to him. He had not written to his dad yet. He could not find the words when he had tried. It had been three days from when Hawkeye had found out he was sick. Now, Captain Pierce was trying to figure out what to do.

_First off, write dad,_ Hawkeye decided, _Then everything else can fall into place._ The man strode with confidence into The Swamp. No one was there – thank goodness – and everything was cleaned up. In fact, the whole Swamp was the cleanest it had ever been. Yesterday, Hawkeye had spent the day cleaning the place up. Slowly, he sat down on his cot and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen.

_Dad_, Hawkeye began and stopped. The black haired man chewed on the end of his pen as he thought of something to say. It then came to him what he would say and he begun to feverishly write his letter.

_The war is over, well it will be tomorrow, but the MASH unit will be staying a week after just in case there are more casualties from unfound mines going boom. It will be strange to leave this place, but I am sure glad to be leaving. _

_Anyway, you know how I said to you in my last letter I had a test. It was a blood test. The results are back – they have been for three days, but I could never find the right words to tell you until now. The results are not good. Dad, I have AIDS (a disease that has no cure…a disease that causes the body to fight everything I guess you could say – good germs and bad, it attacks…the body cannot fight against colds and stuff). I'm dying dad, slowly and I am scared. One of my patients, he gave it to me accidentally. He did not even know. We have gotten to be friends. We are counseling each other. We are the first cases. We are so very scared. I do not know what I am going to do. I cannot perform surgery. I guess I will just do diagnostics or something. I do not know. I will be happy to get home and see you and Crab Apple Cove. Well, I need to go. _

_Your son,_

_Hawkeye_

The man stood and placed the letter into an envelope. He sealed it and took it to Klinger's office. It was sent out that day and came to Hawkeye's father just three days later – Klinger had put it on rush delivery.

The night before they were to leave Korea, Hawkeye got a response, among others things – shocks, laughs and addresses included. It was about two in the morning before Hawkeye got to The Swamp – his last night sleeping in this damp and dank place. Waiting for him on his pillow was a letter addressed:

Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce

The Swamp

MASH 4077, South Korea

Hawkeye smiled grimly as he sat down. Carefully, the man opened the envelope. He then began to read.

Son,

I am so sorry. I cannot find words to say what I am feeling. There are so many feelings surfacing. I wonder why this has happened to you. It is not fair. You cannot do surgery – you were born for that. You cannot have kids – you would have been a wonderful dad. I am going to stop dwelling on the bad. We are going to get through this. You are a fighter. You always have been and always will be. I will see you when you get home.

Dad

Hawkeye read over the letter twice and smiled softly. Yes, he was a fighter and he wasn't going to give up. Not now – not ever.


	5. Epilogue

_BJ_

_The war has been over for 10 years. It has been strange. Life has hardly changed in Crab Apple Cove. The same places I went to Pre-Korean War are still open and thriving, all the houses still look all perfect and pristine – every one of them has a white picket fence around it, even dad's house – and no new people have moved in. Well, there is one. Private Michaels moved here soon after I got home. We council each other or we did. He and I were the only two with AIDS. We became close friends…we were our own support group. Private Michaels, however, died two years ago. I'm thriving. I have opened my own practice. I do not do surgery. I love the job though. I am not sure, even if I could return to surgery, I would. Something happened that day with Private Michaels grabbing me and the results that followed. Also, I saw more surgery, blood and insides than anyone ever needs to see. I'd love to see you. Come to Crab Apple Cove any time you want – no need to ask._

_Hawkeye_

Hunnicut reread over the letter as he sat in the back in the cab. He was going on a surprise visit to see Hawkeye. This was the first time he had seen his best friend in a decade. As the cab stopped, BJ folded the letter up and put it in his pocket. He tipped the cabby and looked up at the light blue two-story house. It was very lovely and it had a white picket fence around it. There was a tire swing in the oak tree, though that did not seem as if it had been used in a long while. A large white porch starched around the perimeter of the home and there was outdoor furniture painted dark blue to the right of the door.

Sitting in one of the chairs was a thin, black haired man. For a moment, BJ did not recognize the person, but then when the man sprang up and rushed down wearing a huge grin, the balding man knew – it was Hawkeye. He had changed a lot in 10 years. The man looked sickly, but thriving.

"Beej! I can't believe you're here," Hawkeye said as he ushered him up the steps, "How are you doing?"

BJ was surprised by how Hawkeye was acting. The last time he had seen him, Hawkeye had not been in the best of moods and extremely depressed. "Good…busy. How're you doing? You look great," BJ said half-truthfully.

"I look sick, but anyway. I am great. I feel pretty good, sometimes I get tired, but I'm used to it," Hawkeye said, "I'm thriving and fighting. That's all I can do." The black haired man smiled at BJ and BJ knew that in life, there are lessons we learn from things that happen and there always would be. It is what people do with them that matters.


End file.
